


Christopher's Protector

by Kassiopeia



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Carla Price is a Saint, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Christopher Diaz, Injured Eddie Diaz, Injury, M/M, Protective Evan "Buck" Buckley, Team as Family, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kassiopeia/pseuds/Kassiopeia
Summary: Eddie and Christopher get into an accident while on their way to the firehouse. When Eddie is left unconscious from the accident, what will Christopher do?Written for Day 2 of Chris Diaz is a National Treasure Week.Prompt: Eddie. Tired after a 24 hour shift, gets run off the road with Chris in the car. Buck’s one of the responders.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 485
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Christopher's Protector

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/gifts).



> I wrote this frantically over a 10-hour period for @elisela because I said I would. It is now two am and I have not had a chance to look it over but I wanted to get it posted. Any mistakes are mine. Sorry the title sucks. I haven't posted a fanfiction in years.
> 
> Edit: I have now edited and added a bit. Any remaining errors are still mine.

Chris and Eddie stand on the porch of Abuela’s house saying their goodbyes. It’s only just started to get dark, but the porch light shines down and illuminates their figures. Chris puts his weight on his crutches and leans in when Abuela hugs him and peppers his face with sloppy kisses. He giggles at the ticklish sensation and Eddie watches on, Tupperware containers full of Abuela’s cooking piled high in his hands.

“You take care of your father, mijo! And say ‘hello’ to Buck for me. We missed him at dinner tonight,” Abuela says with one last, wet kiss to his forehead. She ruffles his hair and gently pushes him in the direction of the driveway.

Chris turns around, calling “I will, Abuela. I’ll give him a big hug and a kiss for you. Love you!” as he makes his way carefully down the porch steps toward the truck.

Abuela grabs Eddie‘a arm with both hands and together, they both watch him go, fond smiles on their faces. Chris has gained so much independence since coming to L.A. (despite the traumas he’s faced) and they never stop being inspired by his accomplishments. As Christopher approaches the truck, Abuela pulls Eddie’s head down towards her so she can kiss him as well.

“You’re a good dad, mi hijo. You’re doing a good job,” she whispers gently with a kiss to his cheek.

Eddie shakes his head, never one to accept a compliment easily. Even now, after finding the 118 and going to therapy, he finds it difficult to take any credit for Christopher’s successes. Though he is far from an absent father, he still feels like he’s barely around – relying on Abuela, Pepa, Carla and Buck to help him take care of his kid.

“Nah, Abuela.” Eddie waves her off. “It’s all him. He’s a good kid – the best,” Eddie says, and he means it. He knows all parents are supposed to be proud of their kids, but Eddie’s never met anyone like Chris. His kid is all kinds of amazing.

Abuela huffs a small laugh and pats her grandson on the back. She knows all about the guilt Eddie feels for missing out on Chris’ early years. She’s also well aware that the Diaz men are not good at talking about their feelings (hence why it took so long for him and Buck to get together).

“You may be right, Edmundo, but you should know, that boy takes after his father.”

Eddie allows himself a small smile, hugging Abuela one last time, mindful of the stack of containers in his hands. He then makes his way toward the truck, storing the leftovers in the passenger seat and helping Chris get situated in the back seat.

“Drive safe, hijo. Don’t forget to drop off some of those containers for Buck. I love you all,” Abuela calls from the porch with a wave.

Just before Eddie ducks into the driver’s seat, he leans over the roof of the truck and calls back: “I won’t. I’ll head to the station right away – try to catch him before he eats something else. Thanks for dinner, Abuela. I’ll drop Chris off on Wednesday morning before shift.”

She nods and watches as Eddie pulls out of the driveway, Chris waving from the back seat.

\---

Eddie steers onto the main road, carefully checking his side mirrors for pedestrians and cyclists. They’d spent far longer at Abuela’s than he had intended. Though they hadn’t taken too long with their goodbyes, it’s now getting quite dark and if they’re to stop by the station to see Buck, it’ll be past Christopher’s bedtime when they finally get home.

“So, Christopher, what do we need to do after we drop off Buck’s dinner? We don’t need to make you a lunch cause Abuela gave us enough leftovers to keep us fed for days. Is there anything else you need for tomorrow?” Eddie asks, looking at his son through the rear-view mirror. He can tell Chris is nodding off, but trying to stay awake so he doesn’t miss the opportunity to see his Buck.

Chris blinks sleepily and his brow furrows in thought momentarily.

“You have to sign my permission form for the robotics workshop. And fill out my home reading,” he says helpfully.

Eddie nods, making a mental note to go through Christopher’s backpack when they get home. If he forgets, he knows Buck will check it before he drops him off at school in the morning, but Eddie does try to be somewhat responsible for his kid. He signals to change lanes and does so when it’s clear. 

“Got it! Permission form and home reading log. Do I need to sign your planner too, mijo?”

Chris nods but just barely.

“Yes, please. Dad don’t forget to wake me up when we get to the fire house, ‘kay? I want to say ‘hi’ to Bucky,” he says in a drowsy manner, his words trailing off towards the end.

Eddie watches as Chris’ eyes drift shut, long lashes fanning out against his cheeks. His curly-haired head tilts to the side and his mouth falls open just a smidge.

“Okay buddy. Get some sleep,” Eddie whispers. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

With that, Eddie returns his attention to the road. It’s not that far of a drive to the station from Abuela’s house, especially not this late at night. The drive should only take about 20 minutes or so. He hopes they’re able to get there when Buck isn’t out on a call. He knows how much his boyfriend loves Abuela’s cooking and wants to surprise him. The blonde had been bummed when he found out he had to work tonight. If they miss him, though, he’ll just Leave the leftovers in the fridge and send his boyfriend a text message.

\---

“ _Shit,_ Chris!”

Chris is startled from his sleep when he hears his father curse and feels the truck make a sudden, sharp turn to the right. One minute, he’s blinking himself awake and the next, there’s a glaring light blinding him, an echoing horn and a loud, frightening screech that hurts his eardrums. Chris is tossed to the side as something collides with the truck. There is a loud “bang!” like a gunshot and a strange burning smell. Glass shatters like rain and metals caves in around him. As he’s flung to the right, the seatbelt catches, digging into his hips and his chest and his head smacks against the window painfully. His vision goes dark.

\---

When Chris comes to, he’s confused, groggy. There’s a ringing in his ears that won’t go away, and he feels out of breath, sore. His head really, really hurts and there’s a vaguely familiar wetness trickling down the side of his face. For a moment, he struggles to open his eyes, but he wills himself to do so – to figure out what’s going on. The last thing he remembers is making their way to the fire station to see Buck.

Prying his eyes open takes effort and the fact that he still can’t hear properly is endlessly frustrating. Chris already struggles to make his body cooperate on a good day. He doesn’t need his senses making things hard for him too. Looking around blearily, he notes that he’s still inside the truck but things are definitely not right.

For starters, the window to the left of him is gone and the door frame is crooked. Only sharp, jagged pieces of the window remain, and the rest of the glass coats the seat and floor next to him, shimmering like thousands of tiny crystals.

Looking forward, he can see the front windshield is cracked and caving in. In addition, the silver hood has come flying up, obscuring his vision of the street (presuming they are in a street at all). The airbag in the driver’s seat has blown and now flops droopily over the console.

Finally, he turns to look at his father. From where he’s strapped in the back seat, he can only see the back of his head and his right arm. He’s not moving and there’s blood all over his forearm.

With this realization, Chris’ heart starts to hammer in his chest.

He calls out tentatively.

“Dad?”

When he receives no response, his calls get more frantic.

“Dad? Dad! Dad, can you hear me!? Dad! Daddy please don’t leave me.”

Chris feels a lump start to gather in his throat. His eyes begin to well up with tears, blurring his vision once more.

“Dad please! Please wake up. I don’t know what to do!”

For a minute or so, Chris just sits there and cries. His chest hurts, his head hurts, he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. By now, he’s figured out that they’ve been in a car accident, but his dad won’t respond to him and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. The thought that maybe his dad is dead crosses his mind causing Chris to sob even harder. It was bad enough losing his mom. He can’t lose his dad too.

Chris cries and cries. He’s so scared. Terrified. He’s never been in an emergency alone. When the earthquake hit, he was at school surrounded by teachers and adults that knew what to do. In the tsunami, he was with Buck…

Chris gasps. ‘Buck!’

Sniffling, Chris reaches up with a shaky hand to wipe away the snot that drips from his nose. He wiggles in his seat.

Buck would know what to do. He just has to get a hold of Buck.

Now, Chris doesn’t have Buck’s cellphone number memorized but he knows that Buck is working at the firehouse tonight and if there is anything Chris knows, it’s how to get a hold of a firefighter: he has to call 9-1-1.

Steadying himself, Chris takes a deep breath.

He looks at the back of his dad’s head and says: “It’s going to be okay, Dad. Bucky’s going to come save us.” The confidence with which he says this bolsters his courage, even though he’s feeling shaken up.

First, Chris sets about freeing himself from his seat belt. With shaking hands, he tries to push the release on the buckle. It takes multiple attempts but at last, he’s able to get it unclasped. Gingerly, he pulls his arm through the shoulder strap, careful not to jostle his sore limbs.

Next, Chris pulls the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his hand and uses it to brush away some of the glass in the middle seat. Slowly, carefully, he scootches his body over until he’s sitting right behind the centre console. Looking ahead, he can see the rear-view mirror, sees the red button along the bottom that Buck and Dad taught him to push if there was ever an emergency.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says reassuringly. “I’m going to press the emergency button, okay? Just like you told me to. Help is gonna come.”

Looking around, Chris wonders how he’s going to get to that button. He could try to maneuver himself into the front seat but that would take time, time he’s not sure he has. He knows it’s important to be fast during emergencies. Not for the first time, Chris wishes he had more control over his body.

Shaking his head to rid himself of that unhelpful thought, Chris searches for another solution. Looking down he spots his crutches lying along the floor. Bending down is painful. It makes all the blood rush to his head and for a moment, his vision turns spotty. Trying to focus through the pain, Chris stretches, stretches until he feels the cool metal against his fingertips. Reaching just a bit further, he wraps his hand firmly around one crutch and lifts.

When Chris sits up, he takes a moment to catch his breath, to let the blood go back to other parts of his body. Cautiously, he shifts the crutch in his hand, careful not to drop it lest he have to pick it up all over again. He manages to get the crutch pointed towards the mirror and after several failed attempts, finally gets the foot of his crutch to hit the red button.

Immediately, a ringing noise fills the car speakers and Christopher almost sobs with relief.

A male voice answers the call. Something about the sound of his voice strikes Chris as familiar, but in his panic, he doesn’t know who it is.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” the familiar voice says.

Now that Chris is finally on the phone, he doesn’t quite know what to do. He’s been so focussed on getting help that now he freezes up.

“Umm… hello?” Chris starts nervously, eyes tearing up once more. The scared feelings have started to return. “Excuse me but I need help - my dad needs help.” Chris gets frustrated with his words, doesn’t know how to explain. Finally, he settles on: “Is Auntie Maddie there?”

“Auntie Maddie?” the dispatcher asks curiously. “Hey kiddo, you know you called 9-1-1, right? Did you call because you need help? You said Dad needs help. What’s your name, buddy?”

Chris tries to keep his tears from spilling over.

“Ch-Christopher,” he says in a wobbly voice. “P-please can I speak to Auntie Maddie? I n-n-need help. Daddy won’t w-wake up and Auntie Maddie works there! Please,” Chris takes a calming breath, “-she needs to get Bucky. There was a car accident!”

In his head, Chris resolves to stay strong, to get help.

“Bucky?” repeats the dispatcher who then gasps over the line. “Wait. Did you say your name was Christopher? Is your last name Diaz by any chance?”

Christopher inhales sharply as the dispatcher identifies his last name.

“Y-yes!” he says enthusiastically. “My dad’s name is Eddie and he’s a firefighter. Please send help. He’s… he’s really hurt!”

Chris hears some rustling noises and hears the dispatcher say something muffled to someone else. He hopes the man is finding Auntie Maddie for him.

“Okay, Christopher,” says the dispatcher suddenly. “My name is Josh and I’m a friend of Buck’s.” Chris cannot even describe the relief he feels at hearing those words. ”We’ve actually met a couple times, but I don’t know if you remember me,” the dispatcher, Josh, continues. “Now I’ve managed to get your location from your car’s GPS and I’ve dispatched a team in your direction. Help is on it’s way and so is your Auntie Maddie. She was just-”

Josh’s words are cut off by a familiar, warm voice calling his name over the speakers.

“Christopher!?”

Chris chokes on a sob.

“Auntie Maddie!” he cries, sagging back into the seat.

There are more rustling noises, presumably as his Auntie Maddie takes over at the work station.

“Christopher, honey, you were in a car accident? Are you okay?”

Chris takes a moment to consider how his body feels. His head still hurts but the blood on the side of his face is mostly dry now. His chest and hips feel achy, just like when he has a bruise. His neck is sore and he has some small cuts on his arms and legs.

“I’m okay, Auntie Maddie. My head hurts ‘cause I hit it on the window and I’m bleeding a little. Mostly I’m worried about Dad.”

Auntie Maddie makes a soft noise of understanding and he can hear the keyboard clicking in the background.

“That’s good Christopher. I’m glad you’re not hurt too badly. And how is Dad doing, sweetheart? You told Josh that he won’t wake up?”

Chris feels his stomach plummet at the reminder.

“Yeah… I tried talking to him but he won’t answer and he’s not moving. I think he’s asleep but I can’t see. I think… I think maybe his hair looks wet.”

Again, he hears the clicking of the keyboard. Stretching his body forward as far as he can, Chris attempts to get a better look at how his dad is doing. Unfortunately, without climbing over the centre console, he still can’t see.

“You’re in the back seat, right Chris?” Auntie Maddie asks.

Chris nods but then remembers that Auntie Maddie can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he says aloud.

“Okay. Well help is on the way and I’ve called Buck. He’s coming as fast as he can. In the meanwhile, can you try to scootch forward and reach your hand in front of your dad’s face? Try not to touch him but see if you can feel air blowing against your hand.”

Chris follows her instructions, inching forward as far as he can without losing his balance. He reaches over the driver’s seat, over his dad’s shoulder, and tries to feel the air. It is a huge relief when he feels the warm breath against his hand.

“He’s breathing!” Chris says excitedly.

“Good! That’s great, Chris. That means he’s alive.” Auntie Maddie’s calm, reassuring voice is a comfort. “Now you said Dad’s hair looks wet. Do you notice anything else that might help the firemen when they arrive? Any weird smells or noises?”

Chris sniffs the air and tries to listen as best he can.

“I… I think Daddy’s breathing funny. It sounds all rattly, like when I have a cold.”

Auntie Maddie hums gently. “Okay, that’s good to know. Thank you, Chris. Now you should hear the sirens approaching any second now, buddy. It’s not the 118, but Buck will be there soon too. Stay with me, honey. I’m going to stay on the line until help arrives.”

\---

The fire truck from the 136 arrives only minutes before Buck and the 118 do. They have just started cordoning off the area when the 118 approaches the scene. When Buck had got the call from Maddie, he’d been in the process of changing out of his turnout gear. Frantic, he had planned on driving to the accident in his jeep with half his uniform on. However, when he’d ran to tell Bobby what had happened and ask for permission to leave early, the whole team insisted on coming along too.

The intersection is dark except for the streetlights and surprisingly, there are no other vehicles in sight. As they pull up, Buck notes the position of both cars. Eddie’s fancy silver 4x4 truck is perpendicular to the lane while an old red pick-up truck is on a diagonal, clearly having approached from the right. The red truck has taken the brunt of the damage but looking at the formation, it’s clear that Eddie had tried to angle the truck so that it would hit his side and not Chris’. With this realization, Buck’s heart sinks to his stomach. He feels dread begin to overwhelm him as he considers what it is he might be walking into.

Trying to remain positive, he observes how the various members of the 136 have begun working to separate the two vehicles. In order to get to Eddie (and the other driver), the red truck will have to be moved out of the way first and isn’t that just devastating in itself? Thankfully, he spots a familiar strawberry blonde braid currently working to stabilize Eddie through the broken back window. Buck’s hands shake and his leg bounces with nervous anticipation as he waits for the fire truck to roll to a stop. 

Barely waiting for Bobby to set the fire engine in park, Buck jumps out, ignoring Bobby’s shout of “hey!” He runs over to the silver truck, bulldozing through the cones and several other firefighters. He is anxious to know about his boyfriend’s condition and wants desperately to see if he’s okay. But at the same time, he worries for Chris who has been sitting here alone for who knows how long. No matter how concerned he is about Eddie, he knows that Chris needs him more. Eddie would never forgive him if he left Chris alone at a time like this. Buck has to trust that Lena and the 118 will take care of Eddie. Right now, he needs to take care of his kid.

“Christopher!” Buck calls in a panicked way that is starting to become all too familiar to him.

Halting at the broken window, he looks in quickly, sees Lena’s progress with Eddie and then turns to look at Christopher. At first glance, he’s got a nasty bump on his head that is definitely still bleeding but otherwise, he looks a bit roughed up but okay. Racing around the back end of the truck, Buck practically tears open the door in his haste to get to Christopher.

“Bucky!” Christopher calls out, arms reaching for him automatically.

Climbing into the back seat, Buck pulls the small boy into his lap, ignorant of the glass and metal and blood.

The second Buck gets his arms around him, Chris begins to heave giant sobs. The heartbreaking noises pour out of him, the adrenaline wearing off and the stress of the accident finally catching up with him. His shaky hands grasp desperately at Buck’s uniform, clenching and unclenching, and Buck can’t do anything but shush him and hold him closer. He holds a protective hand around Chris’ head and presses kisses into his curly hair. Over Chris’ shoulder, he watches as Lena and Bobby work together to start examining his boyfriend. He overhears Lena’s “Alright Diaz, let’s get you ready to get out of here.” Buck yearns to keep listening, wants to know what’s happening so badly. He has to keep reminding himself that Eddie is not his priority.

Turning his attention back to Christopher, he hears a never-ending stream of words being muttered into his chest. Each broken sob pulls at his heartstrings and he longs to be able to make things better.

“Bucky, I was so scared! There was a bright light and so many noises and the glass was sparkling and Daddy wouldn’t wake up and I used my crutches to call Auntie Maddie but someone named Josh answered instead but then Auntie Maddie came and she said you were coming. I knew you would come, Bucky, but it felt like forever!”

Buck feels tears prickle in his own eyes as he listens to his kid crying hysterically. “Shh… shh… shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you. The 118 is going to take care of Dad now, alright. Grandpa Bobby’s got him.” 

Focusing his efforts on soothing Christopher, Buck nuzzles into the boy and begins shifting them in the direction of the door. He manages to get them both out of the truck without any further bumps or bruises. Carrying him towards the ambulance (where he plans on giving Chris a thorough look over), he glances back momentarily to see how his teammates are progressing with Eddie.

He sees that they’ve managed to move the red truck out of the way now. Hen and Chimney have stepped in too to help get Eddie situated on a backboard. Buck is literally in the process of looking away when he hears Hen call out: “we’re losing him!”

His heart stops. His steps falter and he nearly falls to the ground with Chris still in his arms. Catching his footing, he scrunches his eyes shut real quick before picking up the pace so he can get to the ambulance faster.

Once they get there, he sits Chris down on the bench and shuts one of the thick metal doors, closing them in and blocking out most of the sound. As much as he needs to know what is happening with Eddie, he knows Chris also needs to be protected from whatever is going on outside. At the tender age of nine, he’s already seen too much. Buck won’t let this be another trauma added to his list. Besides, he knows Eddie has got the best people working on him - their team, their family. Bobby, Hen, Chim… they’d never let anything happen to him.

Sitting back on his heels, he starts putting Chris to rights. He grabs a first aid kit and begins cleaning up both blood and scratches. He uses tweezers to dig out a couple shards of glass in Chris’ thigh and gets him all bandaged up. Lastly, he cracks an ice-pack to help nurse the bump on his head. Finished doing what he can, he takes a seat on the bench next to Christopher and wraps a strong arm around his shoulders.

“You did so good, Superman. I’m so proud of you and I know Dad will be too.”

At this, Chris looks up at him with watery eyes.

“Do you think Dad’s going to be okay, Bucky?”

Buck does his best not to let his doubts show, tries not to think about what he heard Hen say just before he got into the ambulance with Christopher. Just like before, during the tsunami, he forces a grin onto his face.

“Of course, buddy. Dad’s going to be just fine. He’s got all the best people working on him.”

Though he isn’t sure the words come out very convincingly, Christopher seems to take comfort in them. He burrows his body closer to Buck’s and closes his eyes, much more at peace than before. Inside, Buck fights to keep his panic under wraps but he is heartened by the knowledge that he’s in the right place.

\---

When Buck wakes up the next morning, he’s barely slept a wink. By the time they had gotten home (Bobby having driven them home after getting Eddie sent off in the ambulance), it had been close to 10:30 at night. He’d had to call Carla and Abuela, as well as Eddie’s parents, to let them know what had happened. Carla had offered to come over and watch Christopher while he waited for Eddie to get out of surgery, but he’d refused, insisting on being home for Chris. Afterward, he’d spent most of the night waiting for news from the team, who had gone to the hospital to wait for Eddie in his stead.

He’d managed to get most of the story from Hen. The gash on his head came from a shard of glass out of the windshield and when the airbag deployed, it had broken two of Eddie’s ribs as well as his hand which had come up to shield his face. One of the broken ribs then punctured his lung, causing a pneumothorax. Apparently his boyfriend had coded once when they got him onto the backboard and a second time on the drive over. However, Buck tries desperately not to think about it. The thought of Eddie dying is too much to bear.

Rolling over, he peers down at the small body fast asleep next to his. Chris is also part of the reason he’d had trouble sleeping. The boy had woken up several times in the middle of the night with paralyzing nightmares and he’d been practically inconsolable each time. Buck had done his best to calm him and get him back to sleep. The result was that the two of them had slept restlessly but cuddled close together all night, Buck only allowing himself to sleep lightly lest he miss one of Chris’ nightmares.

Reaching down, Buck cards a hair through Chris’ hair, mindful of the goose egg visible on his temple. He runs a soothing hand down Chris’ back and startles when he hears a noise coming from the kitchen.

On high alert now, he carefully gets out of the bed, trying not to wake Christopher. The boy needs as much sleep as he can get after last night. Pulling the covers over Chris before he leaves, Buck quietly makes his way to the kitchen to investigate. The whole way there, he deliberately steps toe-first so as to avoid making noise. The closer he gets to the kitchen, however, the louder the noises become and soon, he hears a recognizable voice.

“Carla?” Buck asks, stepping into the kitchen entryway. “What are you doing here?”

Sure enough, there is Carla, standing at the oven with three different frying pans on the go. She whips around when she hears his voice and gives him a bright smile and a sympathetic once over. He is sure he looks absolutely terrible.

“Morning, Buckaroo. Thought I’d stop by and make you boys some breakfast before you went up to the hospital this morning. Figured you could maybe use a hand.”

Buck runs a hand through his hair and sighs, moving sluggishly towards the kitchen table.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night, Carla. I just kept worrying about Eddie and Chris wouldn’t sleep… it was terrible.”

Carla nods in understanding, flipping something on one of the frying pans. The smell of greasy bacon fills the air and Buck can’t help admitting how tempting breakfast sounds, despite the fact that his stomach feels like it’s tied in all sorts of knots.

“Mhmm” she says absently. “Of course you didn’t sleep, honey. Your man is in the hospital and your kid is worried sick.”

Buck folds his arms on the table to make a resting place for his head. He closes his eyes and yawns. If he can just sleep for five more minutes… 

“Bobby said he handled the surgery well…” Buck starts to say but trails off sleepily.

Carla smiles fondly. “Of course. Eddie Diaz is nothing if not a fighter. He’d do anything to get back to you and that boy,” she says, gesturing towards the master bedroom with her spatula.

Shaking his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Buck stands up from his seat.

“Speaking of ‘that boy,’ I guess I should wake him up and get him ready to visit his dad.”

Carla makes a noise of agreement and turns back to the stove.

“Breakfast will be here when you’re ready.”

\---

When Buck and Chris get to the hospital, the team is long gone. Bobby had texted to say he’d come visit with Athena in the afternoon but for now, Eddie is hopefully getting some rest.

Approaching the nurses’ station, Buck inquires about Eddie’s room. Chris stands at his side, using a spare set of crutches and looking around the waiting room curiously.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says politely, keeping a steadying hand on Christopher’s back. “I’m looking for the room of Edmundo Diaz. He was in a car accident last night.”

The nurse, a tiny brunette woman in periwinkle scrubs, looks up at them briefly. Buck watches as she eyes the dark bags under his eyes and the bandages on Christopher’s temple before scanning her clipboard. He can’t imagine what she’s thinking and wonders if maybe she’ll want to toss him out.

“And who are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Much to his relief, her tone is kind, free from judgement despite how ragged he and Chris both look. Buck realizes that she must see a lot of haggard looking people coming in to visit their loved ones.

“I’m his partner, Evan Buckley,” he says confidently, “-and this is our son.”

Buck tilts his head toward Chris.

The nurse smiles kindly at Christopher, nods in acknowledgement and rattles off the room number, pointing in its general direction.

“Room 406. Down that hallway just ahead. Second room on your left.”

Buck thanks her and begins making his way down the hall. He keeps his pace slow to match with Chris’ despite his eagerness to see his boyfriend.

When they finally reach the room, Eddie is still fast asleep and if Buck is completely honest, he looks pretty awful. His head, throat and chest are wrapped in white bandages, and his right hand is in a cast. He’s hooked up to oxygen and an IV and there’s a pulse oximeter on his left hand.

He and Chris enter as quietly as they can but the noise from Chris’ crutches stirs Eddie from his sleep. He blinks wearily, groaning in pain, and tries to roll over. Buck rushes to his side, putting a placating hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie! Try not to move!” 

Eddie is not quite awake yet but lies back flat anyway. After a moment, he turns his head, noticing Buck and Christopher for the first time.

“Buck? Chris?” he croaks. His brows draw together as he looks at them with confusion. “Wait,” he says, taking in his surroundings. “-am I in the hospital?” Eddie asks in surprise.

He tries to sit up this time, but Buck’s hand forces him to stay still. Buck rolls his eyes and resists the urge to smack his boyfriend upside the head (he’s almost positive it would not contribute well to this situation).

“Eddie! I said _try not to move._ You’re injured,” he explains exasperatedly. 

Eddie groans again. “Ow! Fu-” Eddie glances over at his son who has now taken a seat at his bedside. “Frick,” he corrects at the last possible minute.

Eddie is about to ask Buck what is going on when he looks at Christopher more closely. He looks at his red eyes and takes in the butterfly bandage on his forehead. His brows furrow in concern. He reaches out to touch Christopher’s face but the lifting aggravates his ribs.

“Mijo? You’re hurt!” he says worriedly. “What-”

It suddenly dawns on him. The red truck. It had been swerving crazily and Eddie had only noticed it out of the corner of his eye as he entered the intersection. He’d tried to avoid it but upon realizing that it was impossible, had made a sharp right turn so that the truck wouldn’t hit Chris.

“The car accident,” he says slowly. Buck nods and Christopher starts to get teary eyed. 

“Mijo-” he starts only to be cut off by Chris’ cries.

“Daddy! I was so scared!”

Eddie looks to Buck helplessly. Buck returns the look, begging Eddie to handle this one. He’s tired, exhausted. He spent all night up with their boy. Eddie’s brown eyes become soft with understanding and he nods resolutely.

“Buck,” Eddie says quietly, “-bring him up here.”

Eddie gestures to the bed with his head.

Buck hesitates, surprised. Bring Chris up onto the bed? Eddie can’t move in his condition. What if Chris hurts him? It’d make him feel even worse! He can’t.

Eddie says his name again, sterner this time. “Buck.”

Buck sighs, giving in. He knows there is no arguing with that tone of voice and as concerned as he is, he knows Eddie wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t mean it.

Making his way around the bed, Buck takes Chris’ crutches and leans them up against the wall. Then picks the boy up, tears and all. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eddie inches towards the opposite side of the bed. There’s a pained look on his face the whole time but Buck doesn’t say a word. When there’s enough space, he reaches down to shift some of the tubes out of the way and gently lays Chris down beside his father.

“Be gentle, buddy,” he reminds Christopher, sitting down in the newly vacated seat. “Daddy’s got lots of injuries.”

Chris nods his head and very, very gently, leans his head against his father’s arm. Though it clearly pains him to do so, Eddie strokes Chris’ thigh (the only part his hand can reach) with the back of his wrapped hand. 

Though he doesn’t know even half of the details yet, Eddie leans down as far as he can and whispers soothing words in Christopher’s ear.

“Hey buddy,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You did so well, mijo. You were so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Steady tears make their tracks down his son’s face but he’s no longer openly sobbing and Eddie feels the corner of his mouth twitch as the boy starts to calm down.

“You’re okay, mijo,” he says. “Buck took good care of you while I was getting fixed up, didn’t he?”

Buck feels his own eyes start to water, the exhaustion settling in now that he’s here, that he’s seen that Eddie is okay with his own eyes, and has had a chance to sit down. He reaches out and puts a hand on Eddie’s hip. His other hand comes up to cover his mouth and silent tears begin to stream down his face. He leans his head back and brings his arm up to hide his crying eyes, still trying to protect Christopher even now.

Chris, on the other hand, nods his head over and over.

“He did, Daddy,” Chris says in a muffled voice. “I used the red button to call for help like you said and Buck came to save us.”

At this, Eddie can’t help but look over at Buck. He sees the dark circles under his eyes, the messy hair, the tears and the quivering. He sees the fatigue, sees how hard Buck has worked to stay strong when Christopher needed him most. He has no doubts whatsoever that Buck protected him as much as he was able, just like on the day of the tsunami. There really is no one else he trusts more to protect his son when he can’t, Eddie thinks. And though he is in terrible pain, Eddie feels his heart clench for this man who so selflessly provides for others no matter the cost to himself; this man who made him feel alive again after so much fighting and trauma and anger; this man that he loves more than he ever thought possible; his best friend, his partner.

“I know he did, mijo,” Eddie says softly. “He always does.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone over at the Discord who inspired me to write this fic (@elisela, @thisissirius, @kaitlia777 etc.). Thank you also to Eli for helping me with my Spanish and encouraging me to finish writing this. If any of you are Christoper Diaz fans and would like to contribute to this special week, head over to chrisdiazweek.tumblr.com and see what's on the schedule!


End file.
